Against All Odds

three [lame tryouts and late-night talks]

"Where did you go?" Karl asked, gray stress forming on his face. "I was worried about you."

"I followed a dumb student into a storage closet because they weren't following the rules," George sighed as his eyes wandered around the hallway, but Dream had already vanished from sight.

"That's such school president behavior," Karl conceded with a wide smile.

George smiled halfway back before leading the way to the basement.

It was no gymnasium, but the basement had a pretty good setup for when something else was already going on in the upstairs gym.

Mats were spread along the walls of a far corner and the floor was lined with the same gymnasium linoleum. George set down his bag and pulled out his phone, opening up Spotify as he did.

"Let's get to work," he groaned.

_____

The boys spent a grueling 45 minutes working out the kinks to a new routine before having to go back to class. They'd skipped lunch in the process, so George was annoyingly hungry for the rest of his periods. It was torture.

When the bell finally rang, George went straight to the cafeteria to pick up any leftover food from lunch, and then headed to the gym.

Cheer was his thing. He was amazing at it, and he was going to lead the team to victory this year. If only their mascot wasn't a dumb shrimp...

When he'd changed his outfit into one more suitable for cheering (blue tee that was way too big for him with a white skirt that was much too short), George made his way to the back of the gym where Karl and Tina were standing. Their outfits were similar to his, but with different colored tops- they knew that blue was his color.

Younger kids started filtering in. George could practically feel the nerves wafting off of the freshman alongside the loathing from the upperclassmen. Cheer was no joke. And George took it very seriously.

When it looked like enough people had gotten inside, George called everyone forward. He had them line-up in order by year and then told Karl and Tina to lead them in stretches. George followed along, but his eyes were trained outside the gym windows, aimed at the football fields right next door.

They were running tackling drills, and- was it hot in here? Because George was starting to sweat. He honestly had no idea how football even worked, but seeing guys tackle each other was definitely something.

"George!" Karl yelped, bringing George out of his brazen daydreams. "Ready to start the routine?"

George nodded and stepped forward. "Let's do this."

_____

As it turns out, many of the people that try out for cheer cannot actually cheer.

George kicked out all the people who couldn't dance to save a life, or were quieter than his dead grandma.

He needed people with style, pep, confidence, and so far barely anyone was showing it. They were all hopeless.

By the end of tryouts, most people were finally putting some pep in their step as they performed the routine George and Karl had made earlier on. It wasn't the best, but by tomorrow he would know who worked best together and would be able to finalize all the cuts. It would be fine.

(It wasn't fine.)

George felt like he was already losing. Sure, it was day one, but if he didn't win the cheer competition at the end of the season, he'd be pissed. And it wasn't only him that would be upset. His parents would be mortified that their son lost his first cheer competition ever as a captain, and the principal would probably revoke his school privileges for the rest of the year. He might not even be school president anymore.

Well, maybe none of that would actually happen, but if they did lose, his ego would be crushed. His parents and the whole school would be fine with it, but George would be absolutely demolished. He needed this win more than ever.

He dismissed all the soon-to-be recruits with a half-hearted wave before saying his goodbyes to Karl and Tina. Normally, he and Karl would walk home together, but today the brunette was staying behind for some anime club. It was weird but George didn't really care, he could walk home by himself. It was fine.

George headed on his way home, taking a shortcut through the football fields. Practice was over by then, and all the guys should have gone home. Well, all except for one, apparently.

Standing idly next to the bleachers was Dream. His hair was wet with sweat (which was so not attractive in any way) and his stance was stiff as he rubbed his arm.

George tried to sneak past the zombie, but instead Dream saw him and decided to wave him over.

Why did the zombie have to be so stupidly attractive?

The brunette made his way over to the zombie in a feverish manner. He stood about a foot away, and detestfully asked, "Why do you have to be everywhere I go?"

The zombie grinned, "You actually found me the past three times we had the pleasure of meeting, so maybe you're the one that's going everywhere I do."

George scoffed. He wasn't following this zombie, that was ridiculous.

"Yeah, right," he mumbled before looking down at the blonde's outfit. He was donned in one of Seabrook High's very own football jerseys with a pair of tight-fitted spandex. (George obviously didn't think it was hot. Not at all) "I thought you couldn't try out for the team," he observed.

"I pulled a few strings," Dream said, voice snarky.

George shook his head. "You really just can't seem to stop yourself from breaking the rules, can you?" It was so dumb. First the zombies come to his school, then the zombie alarm is set off, and now there's a zombie on the football team. He did not feel safe at all, even if the only zombie he's ever interacted with happened to be one that was doused in rays of sunlight. Zombies were still monsters in George's book.

"Not my fault you're rules are stupid. They were practically meant to be broken."

George was livid. This thing didn't get to talk to him like this, didn't get to break all the rules and somehow act like it's no big deal. "Oh yeah? How are they so stupid if they keep humans like me safe?"

"Zombies are literally exactly like humans, just with green hair and wristbands that control the urge to eat brains," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah, that sounds exactly the same... So what happens if you guys lose control? Would everyone else just have to suffer?" George asked, yellow annoyance seeping into his words.

Dream physically got smaller. "That wouldn't happen."

"Technology's a work in progress. Even if those Z-bands seem like the safest thing in the world, there's always something that can change that," George sighed.

The sun had already set, and the sky was a pale shade of black. His parents would be worried, which meant that he'd have to come up with an excuse on why he was out much later than anticipated.

"I have to go," he said to Dream in a murmured panic. Then, before the zombie could say anything else, he was gone, running down the streets of Seabrook, trying to make it home to dinner in time.

So, maybe he had overreacted. Maybe. But he didn't feel guilty. Not really. He was stubborn, and overly aggressive, but that was just his personality. People had to get used to it.

Even though Dream was probably the most attractive thing he'd seen in a while, that didn't mean he had to be nice to the guy. And, sure, Dream was brilliant and cocky and somewhat sweet, but that didn't mean George liked the guy- in fact, it was the farthest thing from it.

He did not like the zombie. He couldn't.